"In the autumn of the year 1808, eight passengers, consisting of seven gentlemen and one lady, embarked on board an American vessel, bound from the port of Cronstadt to America, purposing to touch at England, in company with a brig and another vessel. They had scarcely proceeded fifty leagues, when a violent storm arose. The night was unusually dark, and the ship ungovernable. In this extremity, the brig suddenly dashed against them with such force, that every plank seemed rent asunder, and an instant after, they found themselves transfixed upon a rock. It was now near five o'clock in the morning. They repeatedly fired guns of distress, hung out signals, and at daybreak beheld, with grateful delight, a large boat, rowed by two stout females, approaching their ship. The captain insisted that his eight passengers should go on board the boat, whilst he and the seamen hastened to attempt the preservation of their luggage and stores. He entreated the women to land their charge in safety, and then return, as expeditiously as possible, for himself and his six sailors; as the ship leaked very fast, and though the storm was abated, they were surrounded by such a cluster of rocks, as to deprive them of all hope of getting off in safety. The two heroines steered their charge to the island of Stameo, a barren rock, which they reached in about an hour. They conducted them to the best hut on the island. It was built of mud, and was the habitation of two sisters, and several other females, who resided under the same roof. They produced milk, dried fish, and rye bread, for the refreshment of their wearied and exhausted guests. They prepared a room, with beds, for the gentlemen; and one of the boat-women gave up her own to the lady, sleeping herself upon the oven. Hospitality, affectionate civility, and tender solicitude for their comfort, accompanied every action, and occupied every thought. "In vain they sought to gain the ship a second time: the swell was so great, and the surf so strong, that no boat could venture--no vessel dared approach. Meanwhile, the generous crew were agitated by a thousand fears. In vain they waited for the wished-for boat: no answer was returned to their signals of distress--no pity shown for their perilous state. "Distracted by this delay, the captain ordered them to man the jolly- boat, and arming himself and sailors with swords and pistols: 'My lads,' said he, 'we will instantly seek our friends, and if the merciless barbarians have robbed and murdered them, their lives shall pay the just forfeit of their treachery.'